---    Dragon


There were many protocols to be followed when working as an agent for Internal Security, the most important of which was usually to remain inconspicuous.  To be as socially invisible as possible in any location or situation.  To blend in and not draw attention to yourself.  Being a dragon in the Federate made this exceedingly difficult.  There were so few dragons spread across the expanse of the Federated Worlds, that their rarity made them automatically stand out.  Being nearly a meter taller than most other species did not help either, but there were times when that could be an advantage.
 
"People get out of your way", he had once told Shannon, while they walked through the busy streets of Maramus.  Demonstrating that the tightly packed crowds somehow managed to find enough free space to part before them as they walked.  When three meters of armored scales and wings was approaching, it made people far more accepting of minor physical contact with each other, as long as it meant avoiding physical contact with their owner.

Dro had long ago abandoned any attempts at blending in, and instead embraced a different mindset for accomplishing his job.  Be conspicuous, be obvious, do things and go places the typical agent would not go.  Be so over the top, that people automatically dismiss the thought that you are acting in a clandestine attempt to gather information.  Where ever he went, he would act as though he belonged there, challenging the locals to call him out.  It had worked many times in the past, but this time, he admitted to himself, might be taking it too far.

The trip back to Maramus had been uneventful, and the drop to the surface from the ring was as routine as ever.  Using public transport to reach the market district however had caused a bit of a stir.  The interior clearance of the vehicle was not designed with dragons in mind, and he was forced to press himself against one wall with the back of his head against the ceiling.  In retrospect, he decided that it could have been much worse, as the ceiling was probably the cleanest surface in the cabin to be pressed against.

Even in these cramped conditions, he noticed the space around him.  The transport was packed to capacity, yet somehow, he was not physically touching anyone.  There was even an empty seat next to the one he was crouched over.

The transport suddenly leaned into a corner favoring the side he was standing against, and an older Rakshasan woman was jostled out of position.  She stumbled into that socially forbidden space surrounding him, and before she could retreat, he wrapped a large taloned hand around her shoulders, steadied her, then gently placed her into the empty seat next to him.  Glancing down at the woman, he inclined his head in a gentle nod and returned his hand to the support rail.  Smiling was not something he dared attempt.  The corners of his mouth did not move in the proper way for smiling, and any teeth he showed would likely cause more fear than comfort.

The woman remained motionless for the remainder of the journey, in what for her must have been an uncomfortable position.  Sitting rigidly upright like a soldier at attention, holding her bag on her lap.

When the transport stopped and the doors opened, no one moved until Dro ducked his head and swung out into the rain.  Only then did a couple rush forward to the woman who was still sitting rigidly in the seat, while the rest began to flow out around the dragon, giving him a wide berth.

The invisible social contrivance continued to precede him as he made his way through the milling throng.  Vendors would stop mid-sentence in their well practiced banter as he passed.  'If only it repelled rain as well as it did people', he thought to himself.  The only interaction he had with any of them, was when they didn't see him coming and backed into him.

"Hey, watch where you...", and "Are you blind or...", were the typical abruptly halted greetings he received in a variety of languages.

To which he would dip his head and respond "Pardon me." in Draconian, as they shuffled backwards away from him.

After a few city blocks of these random non-encounters, he finally reached the section of the market that he hoped would have what he needed.  'Be conspicuous, be obvious, do things and go places the typical agent would not go', he chided himself, as he looked to the block of glass fronted shops that lay before him.  With their vivid glowing signs and pounding music, they were unmistakable on any planet where the flesh trade was legal.

'If this doesn't work, she will never let me live it down', he thought. 'And if it does, she will probably try to kill me.'


---    Bright Lights Big Kitty


Holographic projections of scantily clad members of many species and genders roamed through the crowded street.  Some wearing nothing more than a glowing collar or bracelet advertising the shop where their flesh and blood equivalent could be found.  Offering passers-by a dry place to do more than just look at a rain blurred hologram.  For a modest hourly rate, of course.

The holograms, immune to his social buffer zone, approached and began to chat him up as if he were any other member of the crowd, sometimes with hilarious side effects.  Most of the projections had no contingency for taller than average customers, so would look him square in the chest while attempting to tempt him with their sales banter.  The more expensive projectors were programmed to maintain eye contact, which often resulted in a figure posing its body provocatively next to him, while its neck twisted in ways that would be uncomfortable, or physically impossible for a flesh and blood body to perform.

One projector even adjusted its magnification setting to match the height of its dancers to potential customers.  So for a few moments, the entire street was treated to a pair of three meter tall felines, as they performed their lurid dance around the dragon as he passed.  Smiling to himself, the dragon raised his hands above his head, and gyrated his hips to the beat of the music, appearing to bump and grind with the over-large cats.  As he left the projector's sphere of influence, the dancers returned to their normal size and danced their way back through the crowd, to their storefront.  One brave person in the crowd shouted "Come back!  Do it again!"

Some of the storefronts had enclosed booths of plastiglass, containing real living examples of the products which could be found within.  Each standing or sitting in a provocative pose, or dancing to the ever present thrumming music.

Eventually he came to a storefront which differed from the others.  The main door was on the second floor, atop a wide sweeping stairway which spilled out onto the street level.  Arrayed along the railings on either side of the stair were examples of the same scantily clad menagerie as before, but these were not projections, they were physical with real collars and bracelets.

No one in their right mind would offer themselves to public perusal in this section of town.  There was only one explanation for this open display of living flesh.  These were AI in biologic or synthetic frames.  

Some were chatting up potential customers, others were leading, or being led up the stairs after having reached a verbal agreement.  Over it all, shielding it from the rain was a brightly lit marquee advertising 'Preston's Pleasure Palace'.

Dro had spent enough time around AI that he could usually identify their classification within a few minutes of interaction with them.  He could already tell a couple of these were simple Class II pleasure dolls.  A few of the more interactive and chatty were probably Class III.

When his foot hit the first stair tread, he was immediately intercepted by a striped feline wearing a mostly transparent one piece dress.  "Hello.  Is there anything I can do for you this evening, or perhaps to you?", she said in a sultry voice.

'Class III' he immediately thought to himself.  "Actually, I need to speak with your owner.  Will you escort me to him, please?"

"Certainly", she purred, taking the dragons hand and leading him up the stairs.